


Of Opportunities

by sweettasteofbitter



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 17:38:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettasteofbitter/pseuds/sweettasteofbitter
Summary: Five vignettes of a relationship, measured in kisses.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for, well, a very large part of the game, I would even go as far as saying it is better if you have finished the game if you want to read this (or just read this if you simply do not care about spoilers at all, but don't say I didn't warn you!)
> 
> Trying to find my voice for this pairing, because I enjoy it a Lot.

I.  
It happens on Kadara, the first time, when Ryder can’t decide which sight she likes better: that of the orange sky and sharp peaks around them, or Vetra’s profile, because both are extraordinary.

Ryder wonders if the invitation to get up here is the onset of something more, and with the thought comes the awareness that it could just be wishful thinking on her part. This _is_ Vetra, after all; tall, funny, occasionally embarrassed by just how much she cares, but most of all, wonderful in many complex ways. Maybe, just maybe, Ryder’s judgement is clouded because Vetra’s presence has been doing distracting things to her lately.

But then Vetra touches the back of Ryder’s hand with her own, with a loaded question buried within this gesture, and Ryder catches her breath when words shape around the gesture itself. Her own hand reaches out, reassuringly, convincing Vetra that yes, _yes, this is real._

Ryder stares up at the sky, breathlessly, focussing on the hand in hers.

She knows turians don’t kiss. It’s a cultural thing, a tidbit she vaguely remembers from her searches on the extranet, though most of the information she has gathered on turians (and other species) comes from the anthropological journals she downloaded onto her datapad for some light reading. Still, she also knows Vetra hardly considers herself culturally turian and has no taste for the discipline of the military or any of the foundations upon which the majority of turian society is based. Vetra is the most street wise person Ryder has ever met, and she, of all people, would know kissing is a Thing Humans Like to Do.

(Ryder is aware of the health risk, but as long as she doesn’t stick her tongue down Vetra’s throat, there is not much of a hazard. She wasn’t really planning on doing that, anyway, kissing etiquette dictates it is bad form to do this the first time regardless of the species of the partner of choice.)

She watches Vetra from the corner of her eye for a few more seconds and then makes the decision to pull her closer across the dusty mountain top to kiss her. For a moment, Ryder stiffens - it’s strange, kissing someone who doesn’t technically have lips, and she is dreadfully afraid she has made a faux pas, but Vetra tangles her hand through Ryder’s hair and holds onto her as though she is the only thing that anchors her to the summit of the mountain, and, relieved, Ryder relaxes, and closes her eyes.

II.  
On Aya it happens, too, surrounded by lush greenery contrasting with white and blue. It’s meant to be a moment of respite, but instead of breathing in the air around her, Ryder chokes when she realizes how the market resembles those of twentieth century seaside towns on Earth she has never visited, only seen in ancient documentaries during her studies. It is futile to hold back the sudden onslaught of irrational melancholy, impossible to deny there is a tear in her eye and a lump in her throat.

There are flashes of her family. Together. Occupied with their own lives and what was going wrong in said lives, pretending to function beyond their worries, but _together_.

Then, a cautious hand at her back. The present.

“Are you all right?”

Vetra doesn’t really smell of anything - at least, nothing Ryder previously associated with being a person. Standing close to the turian reveals a metallic smell Ryder mostly knows from biting on her own tongue. Sometimes there is an earthy scent mixed in, which has mostly manifested itself after bouts of frantic running and combat, but also when they are tangled up together in bed, where Vetra is cared for and safe, clothes on the floor, visor carefully deposited on the bedside table. Ryder has figured out the scent is probably akin to sweat, yet it doesn’t strike her as unappealing, not exactly; it just doesn’t help to announce Vetra’s arrival, that’s all.

“I will be,” Ryder says.

She expects Vetra to leave, in search of one contact or another, or to make sure no one meddles with a procured shipment in the cargo bay...but instead, she stays, and Ryder sways a little when she is pulled closer, a sharp mouth against her scalp as she is kissed on the head.

“Thanks for being here with me, Vetra.”

“Anytime.”

III.  
It happens aboard the Tempest, circling high above the scorching sands of Elaaden, after too narrow an escape that leaves the right side of Ryder’s armor simmering, severely dented, and ready for repairs. They’re in Ryder’s quarters, and when the automatic door shuts behind them, Vetra kisses her hard, harder, until neither of them can breathe and Ryder’s mouth actually hurts.

“Consider yourself lucky to get this, when what you really deserve is my anger.”

“What? Why?” Ryder says, chest heaving.

“Because.”

“That’s it? _Because_?”

“You’re a sensible woman, Ryder, but you let it come too close for comfort way too often.”

"A mere scrape. Nothing that can’t be fixed.” Ryder usually isn’t one for antics, but with Vetra she feels comfortable enough to let the words roll off her tongue.

"I care too much to watch you die.” Vetra shifts, and the corner of her mouth twitches. “Again.”

“I’m,” Ryder swallows thickly, her first instinct to be defensive, but it makes her entirely too uncomfortable to be reminded that she was clinically dead for a few seconds not too long ago, and that Vetra, of all people, was there to witness it. “Sorry.”

Vetra nods, slowly, accepting the apology in silence.

“What do you want? Right now, I mean?” Ryder worries her chapped bottom lip with her teeth, uncertain. “Me?”

The pointy end of Vetra’s mandibles move, ever so slightly, not quite a bristle. She sighs.

“Maybe...we should just talk. I think we’re good at that? _You_ are,” she says, and Ryder wants to point out that Vetra is vastly underselling herself, but she lets it slide.

“All right. Come sit here, and I’ll get you a drink - I think that one bottle of yours is still here somewhere - and then we’ll talk it out,” Ryder says, more relieved than she expected to be.

The couch feels too hard underneath her, and her whiskey gives her an instant headache, but they talk, and in the end they both feel better, and the couch doesn’t feel so uncomfortable anymore.

IV.  
When it happens on the Nexus, it’s awkward, because Sid catches Ryder when she presses a quick kiss to Vetra’s face just after they exit the transit shuttle, and the younger Nyx sister can’t stop cooing, much to Vetra’s annoyed embarrassment.

“Do you know her? I don’t know her,” Vetra grumbles.

“Hey Sid,” Ryder grins.

“How’s the pathfinding?”

“Pathfinding’s been good. Excellent, even,” Ryder says, juggling with the innuendo. “Been doing a lot of it lately, too.”

(Much later, in private, Vetra confesses that she is glad Ryder gets along so well with Sid. Ryder laughs, takes Vetra’s hand in her own and tells her she can only hope Vetra will like Scott, for he is much more clinical and bookish than herself, to which Vetra snorts and responds that that is _impossible_.)

V.  
It happens, a lot, on Eos, where Vetra has suffered an unexpected but minor injury to her arm, and after Lexi has fussed over her much longer than necessary, Ryder takes Vetra back to her Tempest quarters, helps her undress, and coaxes her to lay back against an abundance of pillows. The injury isn’t her fault, but she still feels as though she should make up for it, somehow.

Ryder alternates between pressing kisses against the bony structure of Vetra’s face and pressing their foreheads together to give her room to breathe while she works on her with clumsy fingers. She tries so hard, but she still isn’t completely used to Vetra’s anatomy; there is no clit and no real folds to speak of, and it’s strange not having these guidelines. The first time together she actually had Vetra show her how it worked, and then returned the favor in kind, but since then she has improved considerably, and by now she knows what to do to make Vetra’s pleas turn into something raspy and primal, though Ryder hasn’t heard her voice take quite _this_ turn before. It’s a rush that hits her, and Ryder involuntarily presses her thighs together, breath shaking out of rhythm.

“Am I getting to you, Ryder?” Vetra laughs (of all the things she could do, she laughs), and it’s raw and tender and everything all at once, and Ryder isn’t sure if she’s mocking her, but she will take it. Vetra catches the shock on her face, because she pushes herself up on her elbows, half-wincing when she bends her arm, and with a soft voice she says: “Hey.” And Ryder looks up at her, and shudders with affection, just a little; she isn’t even sure Vetra notices it.

“Relax,” Vetra says. “You’re doing fine. And your turn will come, don’t you worry. Just...hm...continue.”

Afterwards, when they’re both sated and settled against each other in the last sunlight of the day, Ryder has her head propped up on her arm and is laughing out loud at one of Vetra’s wilder stories, and her face grows softer when she realizes once again how lucky she is to be trusted by Vetra (trusted, not loved, because being loved by Vetra is a privilege she can’t even fathom properly yet).

Her laughter comes to a halt, her breathing slows down, and she lets her head fall against the pillow, in the perfect knowledge that there is someone there to catch her.


End file.
